Trusting Danger: First in the Danger Trilogy
by Angel LeeAnn
Summary: FINISHED! Marguerite, falling prey to a sorcerer, is plagued by terrors that torment her and cause the others to believe she's gone crazy.
1. Falling Prey

Title: Trusting Danger

Author: Angel LeeAnn

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Marguerite falls prey to a powerful sorcerer who implies to offer her the one thing she wants most: a way home.

Disclaimer:  As much as I would love to take create for these marvelous characters, I cannot.  The wonderful genius behind this creation is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Also, I haven't read many 'The Lost World' fan fictions, yet.  I am new to all of this.  So, if there are any similarities between my story and one already posted, then it is completely accidental.

TIMELINE: They've been on the plateau for three years, but many things from the third season are different.  Veronica and Malone never went missing.  The last couple episodes, including the finale, never occurred.

Part One

The sun rained down with its merciless heat that nearly blistered the skin.  Sweat blanketed his well-toned body as Lord John Roxton tediously attempted to – once again – repair the leaking hose.  

They had arrived at the tree house a couple hours ago from a three-day exploration.  Everyone was grimy, sweaty, and grumpy.  It hadn't uplifted any moods when Marguerite Krux had gone to take her shower (she insisted to go first), only to return a few minutes later wrapped in a towel.

"There isn't any water," she declared with every ounce of annoyance the heiress could muster.  "Roxton," she snapped.  "I said there is no water."  She glowered at the hunter as though it were his fault the blasted thing decided to break for the hundredth time. 

Roxton tossed her a venomous glare.  "What do you expect me to do, _your highness_?"  He was too exhausted and hot to handle her demanding personality with etiquette.  "Squeeze water from some bloody rocks?" 

"If that's what it will take."  She straightened her loosening towel, suddenly self-consciousness of his intense stare and proximity.  She forced her tone to soften and her expression to turn distressful.  "Please, John, I'm filthy and sticky.  I just want to wash up a little; and I'm so tired."

"We're all tired, Marguerite."  He glanced around their "home", his eyes falling on the clay vase stuffed adoringly with wildflowers.  Flowers he himself had hand picked the moment Marguerite had finished painting the vase with intricate designs that looked almost Celtic.  She had smiled at him with genuine gratitude and warmth when he bounded off the elevator with his treasure.

Roxton sighed, pulling himself out of the chair.  "I'll see what I can do."  He was halfway to the stairs when he paused and turned.  "By the way, Marguerite, that outfit looks smashing on you.  Maybe I'll get you into one of Veronica's loin cloths after all."

"In your dreams, Lord Roxton," she scoffed.  "Now go fix the shower."

So there he was, mindlessly mending the broken pipe for her royal pain in the ass.  _Yet, what a lovely ass it is_, he thought smugly as he tied twine around the cloth he had used to cover the hole.  

He was almost through.  He couldn't wait to relax with a bowl of fresh fruit and allow the last few days worth of tension to sweep away.  Granted, he found hunting lions more enjoyable than sitting around like a pansy, but he was exhausted from their latest adventure and just wanted a few hours rest.

He stepped back to admire his work before calling out.  "Marguerite, you smell treacherous!"  He slipped his shirt back on that he had tossed before laboring away on the pipe.  "Will you take a blasted shower all ready?  You're killing the wild life."

"You needn't be so loud, Roxton."

He turned at the sound of her coy tease.  Her hair was dripping wet, causing the top of her blouse to become soaked in the process.  He narrowed his eyes.  "Where the hell were you?"

"I took a bath in the water hole."  She swept passed him with defined grace.  "You better get your weapons and clean shirt.  We're leaving for the Zanga.  They invited us to intend their festival tonight."

"Whoa, whoa, you may be all fancied up, but the rest of us still need to shower."

Marguerite flashed him a devilish grin.  "We all took baths in the water holes.  Veronica and I used one while Malone and Challenger used the other."  She continued her trek up the hill.  "Hurry up, Roxton, we're running late."

_Typical_, he thought and his exasperation showed plainly on his face.

Part Two

Professor Challenger sat back gnawing on a non-tobacco pipe and watched with open admiration and pride as the four younger members of his makeshift "family" danced with the Zanga tribe.  Over the last three years, the distinguished man had gradually set aside his snobby view that everyone was beneath him simply because he was brilliant and well bred.  In actuality, he had come to accept the women and men as the daughters and sons he never had the privilege to have.

This train of thought led him to think of his wife he had left behind in England, which was to painful to ponder over.  He stood, stretching out the kinks in his lower back.  He could feel every year of his age these days, but refused to allow it to slow him or the others down.  They were far from finding away off the plateau and he had made it his own personal crusade to get them all safely home, especially after Professor Summerlee's death.

He caught Ned Malone's eye and smiled warmly at the twenty-six year old as he twirled Veronica in a sloppy spin.  The two youngest members of the tree house giggled wildly at the attempt and began blaming the messy spin on the wine and laughter.  Challenger couldn't resist the chuckle that escaped him.

He glanced across the bundle of tribe-people until he spotted Marguerite standing sullenly at the edge of the party leaning against a tree with her arms hanging limply at her side.  Her eyes were mournful and staring into a realm of her own: miles away.  Challenger immediately scanned the crowd for Roxton and saw him chatting with a few hunters about their latest hunt.  Feeling uncertain, Challenger made his way to the dark-haired beauty.

"Marguerite," he prodded gently.  "What's wrong, my dear?"

She sighed, shaking her head sadly.  "Challenger, do you honestly believe we'll ever get off this blasted plateau?"  She faced him, her arms coming to fold stiffly across her chest and her expression turning bitter.  "We've been on this god forsaken plateau for three years now.  _Three god damn years_!"

Challenger considered her words thoughtfully before answering sincerely.  "Yes, I believe there is a way.  I know that wasn't your question, but let's think of it this way.  Since there is a way off, we have to eventually stumble across it, right?"  He rubbed her upper arm.  "Do not fret, Marguerite.  I _will_ get us home."

Marguerite nodded tersely, then focused her attention on the festival.  She didn't believe Challenger could keep his promise.  Yet, she knew he would die trying and for that she was eternally thankful.

Part Three

A man cloaked in a black hooded cape watched and listened to the exchange, his eyes twinkling with mystical delight.  He waited patiently for the red-haired man to disappear into the crowd before creeping forward.  "Good evening."  He flashed Marguerite a charming smile while he examined her attire.  "My, what a beautiful young woman; what troubles you so, my dear?"

Marguerite clenched her teeth and glared at the intruding man.  "Something _you_ could never understand.  Now would you leave me in peace?"  She turned her back to him, desperate for the man to back off.  She wasn't in the mood to put up with anyone's flirting: not even Roxton's.

However, the man persisted.  "My name is Klorichieneremic, but you can simply call me Klor.  May I have the delight of your precious name?"

Marguerite sighed heavily and whirled around.  "Look, you importunate little rodent, I have no interest in whatever you have to offer."

Klor clucked his tongue.  He arranged the folds of his cloak so that she could see his hands.  He had them in fists facing downward.  "You are a spitfire, my dear.  However, your rude tongue does not dissuade me.  I have a deal for you."

"I have no interest any deal you…"

"You do not even know what I have to offer."

There was a tense moment of hesitation before Marguerite gave in with an irritated puff of air.  "Fine, what is your offer?"

"In one of my hands is the answer to your dilemma.  In the other is emptiness.  All you have to do is choose."  He stretched his arms out to her.

"I don't have time for your petty games."

"This is not a game, Marguerite Krux.  I am Klorichieneremic the Mystical Sorcerer of Malia.  I know what it is your heart truly desires.  I can give it to you, but only if you accept it by choosing the correct hand."

"Do you really think I'm that gullible?  I don't want to participate in…how did you know my name?"  She took a step back, fearing rolling around in the inside of her stomach.  "I don't recognize you."

"I told you already.  I am from Malia.  What must I do to convince you?"  Klor took a pause before directing his eyes at the ground.  "Watch," he whispered.  "I will turn this dirt into gold powder."

Marguerite's eyes widened as she saw him perform his trick.  She gazed up at him with a hint of blooming hope before turning her attention to his fists.  "All I have to do is pick one?"

"Yes, my dear."

Marguerite licked her lips then reached her fingers out tentatively.

Part Four 

"Marguerite?  Marguerite, are you awake?"

She could feel someone gently shaking her shoulders and she grumbled in protest before caving in to his demand.  She slowly pried open her weary eyes to be face-to-face with a rugged, concerned man.  "Roxton?"  She glanced around to discover that she was in her room back at the tree house.  "What…what are you doing in my room?"  She forced herself to sit up, but regretted it the instant a sharp pain ricocheted through her brain.

Roxton leaned forward, his hands gently inspecting her head.  "You were knocked out."

Marguerite groaned and rolled her eyes.  "Oh, aren't you full of words." 

He tossed her a crooked grin.  "You were knocked out at the Zanga's festival two nights ago.  Apparently you tripped and fell on a rock.  You've been in and out of consciousness ever since."

She tried to conjure up the memory but failed.  "I…I don't think that's right.  Did someone actually _witness_ the incident?"

"No, but I found you laying on the rock.  I must say, you gave me—us quite a scare."

_No_, she thought.  Her frustration was mounting.  _That isn't right._

"Here," he handed her a plate piled with various fruits.  "Veronica is cooking dinner as we speak, but you can go ahead and eat some of these while you're waiting."  He plucked some berries off a vine and popped them into his mouth.

"Hey, look whose up."  Ned Malone strolled into the room with a giant smile plastered to his young face.  "Challenger sent me in to make sure you're alright.  He'll be happy to hear that you're ready to face the world."

Marguerite struggled with a smile.  _Something isn't right here_.

"Dinner," yelled Veronica from the other room.

Malone dashed off to secure his portion of her delicious soup.  Roxton chuckled at his hasty retreat before offering Marguerite a hand.  "You aren't going to be that steady, yet."

Marguerite stared at his hand and hated what it represented: weakness.  Damn it, she didn't need someone to help her stand up!  Yet, she placed her small hand in his larger, rougher one.  "Don't get used to this," she muttered, standing up on shaky knees.

Then, in an instant she was falling forward, her head splitting in two and vibrant colors splashing across her vision.  She cried out in agony, and then her screams turned blood curdling as the colors faded into a dark realm of grotesque images. 

End Chapter One


	2. Realm of Nightmares

Chapter Two

Realm of Nightmares

The rain cascaded in dense sheets and the mist that sprang back up was blinding.  She didn't know where she was or where she was going, but she just knew that she had to get there.  She squinted her eyes against the blanket of fog.  Dark shadows cast themselves over her, but she was unable to make anything out.

"_This way_," hissed a dangerously husky voice.  "_This way._"

Marguerite collapsed, tripping in the clingy mud, and sprawled frontward, but her hands caught herself before her face landed in the mud.  She was shivering violently; her teeth clattering so hard she feared she would chip a tooth.  "No," she cried out.  "Leave me alone!"

A hand made of ice gripped her shoulder tightly.  Its fingers dripped scarlet red blood that smeared her neck and trickled down her chest.  "_This way_."  Its breath was feverish and acidic.  "_This way_."  The murky figure yanked her to her jelly feet.

"_NO_!"  Marguerite thrashed herself around in the attempts of escaping its harsh hold.  "Let me go!  Let me go!  Roxton!  _ROXTON_!"  Unwanted tears of frustration and fright caressed her cheeks.  A sob escaped the confines of her throat as she felt herself being dragged backward by the collar of her blouse.  She dug her heels into the mud, but it was futile.  "_NOOO_," she wailed.  "_ROXTON_!  _ROXTON_!  _ROXTON_!"

"_This way_."

Part Two

"Roxton," Marguerite barely murmured in her sleep.

Veronica frowned and soaked the washcloth again in the bowl of warm water.  For the last two hours she had been taking her turn at patting dry the cold sweat glistening on Marguerite's face.  The heiress had been unconscious since her collapse twelve hours ago.  A few hours ago, Veronica had sent Challenger and Malone to the Zanga tribe to bring back a healer.  Yet, a misfortunate storm had erupted and she feared that it would keep them from making the return trip.

"Roxton.  Roxton."

"Roxton," Veronica shouted.  "I think you better…"

"ROXTON!"  Marguerite was screaming now; she flailed her arms wildly.  "_ROXTON_!"

Roxton burst into the room with wild, panicked eyes.  He was suddenly at Marguerite's side gathering her up in his arms and rocking her gently.  "It's ok, Marguerite.  I'm here, darling.  Shh, it's ok."  He glanced at Veronica for an explanation.

"I don't know."  Veronica dipped the cloth again into the bowl.  "I checked her over again.  There are no wounds on her – not even a scratch, except for the bump on the head she received the other night."

"Rox-ton," Marguerite was sobbing.  "_NO_," she screeched.  "Let me go!  _Let me go_!  _Rox-ton_!"  His name was wailed out in a tone of utter anguish as though she were in desolate despair.  It broke Roxton's heart and he held on tighter.

"I'm here Marguerite.  It's only a nightmare.  Please, wake up."

In defiance to his pleas, she fell into a deeper sleep.

Part Three

Marguerite had lost the fight within and now allowed It to drag her rag-like body through the pouring rain and heavy fog.  She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed to whatever god was listening to save her or at least give her the strength to save herself.  Yet, her pleadings fell on deaf ears.

It released her and she crumbled into the mud.  The shock of the frigid mud against her face snapped her back into action and she leapt to her feet.  _Run_, her mind screamed at her.  _RUN!_  She whirled around and fell into a full-fledged sprint.

"_This way_," she heard It say behind her.

She ignored It and pressed harder.  _Get away.  Get away.  Get away._

Suddenly the ground grumbled and shook vehemently under her feet.  A wall of lava burst up from the ground and she stumbled backward, landing on her behind.  She peered up at the mountain of lava with horror.  Then began screaming as the scorching liquid rained down towards her.  She squeezed her lids shut and braced herself for the inevitable.

"Do you want to live, Marguerite?"

Marguerite's eyes flew open and she gaped at Klor.  "_You_!  What have you done to me?"

Klor casually shrugged his shoulders.  "I did not do anything, my dear.  You are the one who made a choice."  He glanced up at the lava that was now suspended motionless in the air.  "Quite a power, would you not agree?"

"This wasn't part of the bargain," she spat venomously.  "I was to either get what I wanted or nothing at all.  This is…this is…"

"Marguerite, you selected the correct hand.  I was giving you what you most desired, but you did not follow me."

"I didn't follow you?  What the hell are…you were the creature dragging me?"

"It is not my fault you refused to come."

Marguerite was now standing.  "Now what?  I didn't follow you, so I get to go back to the tree house?"

"Yes."

Marguerite narrowed her eyes distrustfully.  "What's the catch?"

"I am coming with you.  You now belong to me."

She barked out a sarcastic laugh.  "Sure, the others will really let you stay."

Klor smiled coyly.

End Chapter Two__


	3. Odd Sensations

Chapter Three

Odd Sensations

Marguerite sat in stony silence watching as the water droplets slowly slid off the leaves of the tree house.  It was sprinkling and hazy, but otherwise a comfortable late-spring evening.  It had been a week since her mysterious "illness" (as they referred to it) and she hadn't shown a sign of repercussion much to her delight and Roxton's cynicism.  He was wary and watchful of her every breath as though he feared a relapse.

Challenger and Malone had returned to the tree house with Clarias, a medicine woman.  Clarias had hung around a couple days before declaring Marguerite healed and departed back to her village.  This was enough for the professor and journalist.  Veronica and Roxton on the other hand kept an eye on the heiress; going so far as Veronica bathing with her every morning.  It was beginning to grate on Marguerite's nerves.

Marguerite didn't recall much of what happened to her during her "sick" days, but chalked it up to stress.  She was told about how she experienced nightmares and cold sweats and decided she was better off not remembering.

Marguerite leaned back further into the wicker chair.  She was tired of lazing around.  She would even go as far to say she was bored enough to clean the tree house.  Not that she would admit it to anyone.

A chilling breeze swept over her and her spine impulsively went rigid.  Her breathing grew shallow and – strangely – fear boiled through her veins in waves of heat and cold.  She snapped her head back and forth in search of whatever it was that gave her a fright, but found nothing out of the ordinary.

"Something wrong, Marguerite?"

Marguerite shrieked, tumbling out of her chair and whirling around on quivering knees.  Her liquid brown eyes laced with hints of green were wide with fear.  Embarrassed, she straightened her posture.  "Rox-Roxton."  She gulped nervously.

His expression contorted into blatant worry and he cautiously inched forward.  "Marguerite," he murmured.  "What's wrong?"

"No-nothing.  You just startled me.  Honestly, Roxton, you shouldn't sneak up on people."  Marguerite stared him head on in the attempt to exert an air of calm.  She smoothed down the front of her skirt to hide the trembling of her hands.

_This is foolish_, she snapped at herself.  _There isn't anything to be afraid of.  There's nothing out to get you._

Roxton half nodded his head, but his eyes were suspicious.  "If you say so, Marguerite."  He held up his rifle.  "I'm going for a walk.  I thought maybe you would like to join me.  It would give you a chance to leave the tree house for a little while."

"This isn't one of your schemes to get me alone, is it, Roxton?" she teased all the while gathering up her pistol and knife.

"You wound me, Marguerite."  He grinned boyishly.

Marguerite snorted.  "Sure."

Part Two

They had been trekking along a makeshift path for the last two hours in what Marguerite feared was a giant circle.  Nevertheless, Roxton denied her claim saying, "I'm a trained hunter, Marguerite.  I know how to avoid going in circles."

"Then why do you keep following them?"  Marguerite swatted at a swarm of bugs that flew into her face and grumbled.

Roxton lifted up a branch that stuck out into the path for Marguerite to walk under.  "What does that mean?"

"Nothing, except your life is just full of circles.  You never move forward, Roxton."  She ducked beneath his arm.  "When will you take a chance and leap towards what you want instead of reaching for it, but never touching it?"

Roxton's face crunched up into confusion.  "What _are_ you rambling about?"

"Nothing."  She marched on.  _Men_, she thought bitterly.

She jolted to a sudden halt as her vision blurred and the abnormal terror gripped at her heart once more.  Her body began to shake as sweat glistened on her forehead and upper lip.  Something was horribly wrong, but she couldn't grasp what.

She could hear Roxton calling her name, but his voice was distant.  She felt her knees give way and she tumbled to the ground, but was shocked at never feeling the hard forest floor meet her.

Outside her world, Roxton had caught her.  He swung her up to cradle her in his arms as he would a baby and made a fleeting dash for the tree house.  All the while he yelled out, "Veronica!  Challenger!  Malone!  Veronica!  Challenger!  Malone!  Veronica…"

Part Three

Malone came sprinting out of the tree house at the sound of Roxton's cries.  He raced out into the "yard" in time to see Roxton bursting from the tree line with Marguerite in his arms.  Malone rushed forward.  "What happened?"

"I don't know.  She looked terrified and then just…collapsed.  Hurry, get Challenger."  Roxton entered the elevator.  He gazed down at Marguerite and noticed for the first time that her eyes were still open, but they were glazed over.  "Marguerite," he whispered.  _What is wrong?_ He thought desperately.

Marguerite released a bone-chilling screech.

End Chapter Three


	4. Loosing Touch With Reality?

Chapter Four

Loosing Touch With Reality?

The crickets' chirping began to grate on Roxton's nerves as he paced back and forth across the small area that was designated as the kitchen.  His patience extinct, he snapped, "God damn the bloody racket!"  He kicked at the nearest item, which happened to be a chair, and sent it whizzing across the floor.

Malone, who was just coming over, hopped over the sliding chair as it went by.  He glanced back at it, then over at the hunter with concern.  "Roxton, your temper isn't going to help her.  In fact, it may upset her more."

Roxton heaved, about to retort when he heard the sound of Marguerite's door creaking open and Veronica stepped out.  "How is she?" Roxton demanded.

Veronica stole a look at Malone.  "She's calm now, but still insistent about what she saw."

"But there was _no one there_," Roxton emphasized.  He ran his hand roughly through his hair.  "She's terrified of something; I'll give you that.  But I was right there with her in the elevator and there wasn't a person in sight."  He lowered his voice as to not disturb Marguerite.  "She must have hallucinated it.  Maybe she's not fully recovered from her "illness".  Maybe the bump on her head jostled her…"

"I didn't hallucinate _anything_," Marguerite snapped form the doorway of her bedroom.  Her face was puffy and her skin still pale, but her eyes burned with indignant lucidity.  "I didn't _imagine_ anything.  I didn't have a _vision_.  I didn't have a _delusion_.  I _saw_ it!  It was there and I'm _not crazy_!"

During her spectacle, Challenger had returned from his lab.  He shook his head slightly at her outburst and said, "We don't think you're crazy, Marguerite.  This plateau is full of mysteries both grand and mischievous.  Your illness just happens to…"

"Don't patronize me!  I'm not ill," she screamed desperately.  "Something isn't right here.  I can feel it!  I even saw a stranger – an evil presence – to confirm that something is wrong.  Why won't any of you _believe me_?"  She glared at their silent response with bitter disdain.  "Fine," she hissed.  "Don't believe me.  Think I hallucinated it, but when hell breaks loose don't expect my help!"  She stormed into her room, slamming the door shut and screamed with mounting frustration.

Why wouldn't any of them take her seriously?  

When Roxton had carried her into the elevator, she was paralyzed with fear.  Reaching the top, she had seen a smirking man cloaked in black with his face half torn off.  She had shrieked, jerking violently in Roxton's arms.  "Kill him," she'd screamed.  "Kill him!"  

Yet, Roxton had stared at her oddly.  "There's no one here, Marguerite.  Whom do you want me to kill?"

It had taken ten minutes for her to calm herself enough to tell the three other explorers what she had experienced, but no one had believed her and it was maddening.  Feeling the strain, she'd allowed Veronica to escort her into her room where she explained her story once more to the jungle girl.

Still sticking to her claims, she worried that the others were beginning to worry about her sanity.  And as much as she hated it, she was beginning to worry about her sanity, too.

End Chapter Four

I know, I know…it is really short.  I'm in the mist of writing two stories (my other one is a Jurassic Park fic) and I'm working as fast as I can.  Yet, thank you so much for the reviews that I've gotten.  I honestly appreciate it.  It makes my day.


	5. Unwelcome Visitor

Chapter Five

Unwelcome Visitor

In the darkness of her room, Marguerite sprung up in bed, her heart racing.  Something woke her up.  Something that was sinister.  She sat still for a long minute, her ears straining.  Not picking up anything, she slowly slid her feet to the ground and pulled her weary body up out of bed.  Slipping on her blouse, she inched her way through the tree house debating with her self whether or not to wake up the others.

_They would only think you crazy_, she thought bitterly.  _They didn't believe you then, so why would they believe you now?_  She grabbed a rifle from the gun stand and continued to explore the tree house.  _This is what's crazy.  Me wandering around at night with a gun looking for what isn't there._  She growled and chastised herself.  _But it _IS_ there.  I feel it._

A breeze fluttered the leaves and brushed past her causing her to shiver.  A creaking from behind her sent her whipping around, ready to fire.  Yet, no one was there.  She heard the squeaking of floorboards come up from the other side and she twirled on her heels, but again saw nothing.  Her ears pounding she sensed a presence run past her and her stomach caught in her throat.

"Who-who's there?"  She croaked from her constricted throat.  "Show yourself and I may not shot you where you stand."

The rocking chair began to sway back and forth.  Marguerite trained her weapon on the piece of menacing furniture.  "What do you want from me?"  The floorboards groaned as if under strenuous weight.  "That's not an answer.  Show yourself!"  Little butterfly whispers erupted in her ear.  The volume grew louder and louder until it was ear shattering.

"Stop it," she cried.  "STOP IT!"

"_This way_," murmured a scratchy voice.  "_This way_."

A hazy hand reached out and gripped her shoulder.  It was made of ice and dripping with scarlet blood.  She screamed and rammed her elbow back, but didn't connect with anything.  She began flailing her body, shrieking and firing her gun blindly.  "Leave me the hell alone!  Let me go!"

Roxton came darting into the room and tackled her to the floor, the gun flying out of her hand and sliding across the wood.  He hastily glanced around the room, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.  Terror still residing from her screams, he gazed down into Marguerite's enraged face.  "Marguerite," he choked.

Challenger, Veronica, and Malone were now standing poised for a fight through out the room.  Challenger eased himself over to the fallen couple cautiously.  Veronica peered down over the railing, here eyes scanning the area for danger.  Malone was examining every nook and cranny without results.

Roxton slowly began prying himself up, his arms securely wrapped around her slim waist.  Kneeling, he peered into her eyes.  To his horror, she began weeping.  It wasn't often that one witnessed her tears and knowing this made the situation more grim and terrifying.  He clasped her shaking body to his, burying his nose into her hair.  "Shh, Marguerite.  It's all right.  I won't let anything happen to you."

"He was here," she sobbed.  "He was here."

"Who," Challenger gently inquired.

Marguerite shook her head, pressing her face deeper into Roxton's shoulder.

All four glanced at each other questioningly.  Challenger bent down to be more level and grimaced at the cracking of his knees.  "Marguerite, my dear, there is no one here…at least not now, so you'll have to describe him to us."

"But he was here," Marguerite moaned.  "I just couldn't see him."

Roxton stroked her hair as she cried.

End Chapter Five

Once again, I thank you for the reviews.  They are what keep me motivated into finishing this story.  If no one liked it, then it would just be a waste of time.  So, thank you so much for the encouragement.  


	6. Remaining Calm

Chapter Six

Remaining Calm

Part One

The only way Marguerite was aware that she was dreaming was by the way the sun rose from the West and settled to bed in the East.  In North America the rise and fall of the sun was opposite: even on the mysterious plateau the sun followed that basic rule.  She didn't know how she picked up on the trivial detail, but it disturbed her and left her wondering what her night terrors had in store for her this time.

A gust of bitter wind swept past her and she peered out over the railing to gaze blankly at the extending forest.  Not a patient woman by nature, she was unnaturally subdued as if she had all the time in the world to take her next breath.  Maybe it was the realization that she was dreaming and nothing could physically harm that had her properly poised and eerily calm by the ordeal.

She sensed It enter her imaginary realm, but this time she grasped onto her control despite the yearning to flee.  _It can't hurt you here.  I am safe._  With this optimistic and brave idea, she made her way out of the tree house and into the dusky evening without the hassle of grapping weapons and ammunition.  Furthermore, she was clad in only her nightwear, but this, too, meant nothing to her as she stepped farther into the woods.

_The only way to face your enemy is head on_, she reasoned with herself.

Part Two

In the early morning light, Roxton slowly forced open his weary eyes.  He lay there listening to the birds chattering outside and wondered what woke him.  He had barely slept a wink after finally putting Marguerite to bed.  He was exhausted and was sure he would sleep through the Second Coming, but something had arouse him from his deep slumber; something that was nagging on him to get up.

Groaning, he rolled out of bed and snapped his suspenders into place.  Rubbing his hands over his face he concluded that he was past due for a shave.  With a heavy sigh, he stumbled out of his room in hopes of finding coffee all ready made, but knowing there was no such luck.  It was hardly five AM.  _Unless Marguerite's gotten up.  Stranger things have happened._

Thinking of Marguerite, he tapped lightly on her door as he passed by.  Not getting a response – or expecting one this early in the day – he poked his head in.  Her bed was rumbled and her blouse and skirt were draped on the chair: her boots beside it.  The only thing missing was its occupant.

Roxton tore through the tree house.  "Challenger!"  He ran out onto the balcony.  "Veronica!"  He rushed down the stairs.  "Malone!"  Descending to the lab, he rummaged through the lower floor without success.

Challenger, with the other two at his heels, bounded down the stairs, his hair wild and his eyes panicked.  "What is it Roxton?"  His rifle was gripped in his hands, but seeing no danger, he lowered his weapon.  "What's the matter here, old boy?"

Roxton searched the faces of his three friends.  "Marguerite is gone."

End Chapter Five

Once again, I know it is short, but I'm trying.  Thank you for the reviews.  I'll try and get this story wrapped up throughout this week.  I hope to have it finished by next Sunday (July 20th). 


	7. Truth Set Free

Chapter Seven

Truth Set Free

Roxton led the search party, desperation to find Marguerite overriding everything else.  He had to get to her.  He feared what she might be experiencing and his fright was heightened by the last few days' events.  Her unnatural behavior was unnerving and scared him more than he was willing to admit to himself.

Hours into the hunt, he finally spotted her standing on a ledge at the edge of a waterfall clothed in only her negligee.  If the situation weren't so dire he would've made a quip about her attire with a teasing smile, but the circumstances were too solemn.  Quietly, as to not disturb her, he approached from the side.  "Marguerite," he spoke softly.  When he got a better look at her face he was shocked to find her eyes closed.  "Marguerite, what are you doing?"  He cautiously inched forward, his weapon and eyes darting all over in search of a threat.

Malone finally caught up, huffing from the strain of running after Roxton.  He stopped a few yards away, keeping a look out for danger as Roxton moved closer to Marguerite.  "I've got you covered, Roxton.  Go out and get her."

Roxton set his rifle down and held out his hands to her.  "Marguerite, please, come away from there."  When she didn't so much as twitch, he reached out to take hold of her, but her head snapped around and her lifeless eyes bore into him.  "Marguerite…please…I don't want you to fall."

"_This way_," her voice was deep and scratchy.  Then she flung herself off the cliff.

"_Nooo_," Roxton cried, his body impulsively jerking forward in the attempts to catch her, but knowing it was too late.  He watched in horror as her slender body plummeted towards the water.  When her body disappeared from view beneath the roaring waves Roxton dove in after her.  

He felt the breath torn from him as he plunged head first into the river.  Struggling against the current, he fought his way to the surface where he took a deep breath before going back under.  His eyes stung from the river water, but he forced them to remain open.  He held out as long as he could then, came back up for air.  "Marguerite!" he yelled.  "Marguerite, answer me!"  He whipped his head around, but saw no sign of her.  "_Marguerite_!"

He swum down stream, every few feet going under in search of her, but yielded no result.  Flooded with adrenaline, he grew fierce in his search.  Finally, two hundred yards from where she had jumped, Roxton saw her floating face first in the water.  He fought wildly against the water until he was at her side.  He rolled her over, dragging her to the shoreline.  "Damn it, Marguerite, why'd you jump?"

He laid her body on the bank and dipped his ear close to her mouth.  She wasn't breathing.  Roxton compressed her chest then cupped his mouth over hers to administer air.  He continued CPR all the while demanding, "Wake up, Marguerite.  Damn it, Marguerite, this isn't how our first kiss should go.  I'm doing all the work, which is rather typical.  You need to help out a little."

Finally, she squirted out the river from her mouth, coughing violently.  Roxton gathered her to him and kissed the top of her dark head.  "You scared me to death, Marguerite.  I thought I'd lost you.  What the hell were you thinking jumping off that cliff?"

"She was coming to me."

Roxton snapped around to see a man cloaked in a black hooded cape standing at the water's edge.  "Who the hell are you?"  He withdrew his pistol and aimed it dead center at the stranger's chest.  "What the hell do you want?"

"I am Klor.  I want what is rightfully mine.  Marguerite and I made a deal and she lost.  Her loss is my gain.  She now belongs to me."

Roxton leapt to his feet.  "Like the hell she does you bastard.  Marguerite belongs here with me, not with you."  He cocked his weapon.  "And I will kill you if you dare so much as take a step.  Actually, I have it in my mind to shot you where you stand.  You're the one who has been tormenting her, taunting her…I ought to kill you."

"And I you."

Marguerite, finally revitalized, stood solid behind Roxton.  "You liar!  This wasn't part of any deal you deceiving bastard!"  Then her eyes went wide as she realized what she had said.  "I remember!"  She patted Roxton on the shoulder.  "I remember, Roxton!  He was at the Zanga festival and he approached me with an offer.  If I picked the right hand, then he would send me home.  If I picked the wrong one, it would be emptiness."

Klor's face crunched up in confusion.  "You…remember?"

"That's right, Klor the Sorcerer of Malia.  I remember you and your little trick."

"But…how?  I do not understand.  You cannot remember.  I placed you under a spell.  Only a sorceress or powerful witch can undo my magic."  He backed away, eyeing Marguerite in wonder.

Without warning, Veronica came flying out of a tree and landed on top of Klor, knocking him to the ground.  Challenger and Malone rushed from the tree line and shoved their rifles into Klor's face, but he seemed unconcerned with their weapons; instead gazed wild-eyed at Veronica.  "_You_!  No, it cannot be!"  In a flash he vanished into thin air.

End Chapter Seven

I'm thinking there will only be one more chapter after this.  I hope you enjoyed it so far.


	8. Epilogue

Chapter Eight

Epilogue

It had been a tense month, Marguerite fearing every tingle that went down her spine as sign of Klor's presence returning to stake claim on her.  Roxton kept a careful eye on her, refusing to go on daylong hunting excursions.  He even went, as far in the first few days, to sleeping on the floor of her room, but she quickly grew infuriated with the arrangement and forced him out.  He refused to go back to his room, however, and camped out in a chair outside her door.

The others were watchful and uneasy not only about the possibility that the Sorcerer of Malia would return, but with Klor's fear of Veronica.  Challenger voiced the opinion that maybe it was Veronica who was the sorceress or powerful witch that allowed Marguerite to remember, but Veronica grew defensive and withdrew in her self.  It was never brought up again.

Eventually, high-strung emotions were turned back to normal and Roxton stopped sleeping in the chair beside Marguerite's room.  Witty flirtation was once again the center of their conversations and Roxton was able to relax at her smiles.  Everything seemed to be going right on track with the exception of Marguerite's laziness.  It wasn't present.  She was usually the first one up and had coffee crewing by the time Challenger was on his way to the lab.

On such a morning, Roxton entered the small kitchenette as Challenger disappeared down the stairs.  He watched the older man go before smiling over at Marguerite who was in the process of pouring him a cup.  "Good morning, Miss Sunshine.  You're up rather early – _again_."

She handed him the mug.  "It's not as though I have a reason to stay in bed."

"I could give you a reason," he leered, taking the offered cup.  Their fingers grazed during the transaction and his grin darkened.  "What do you say, Marguerite?  I did, after all, save your life.  Isn't that worth even one small kiss?"

"You got your kiss, Roxton, on the river bank.  I must say it's not very gentlemanly to kiss an unconscious woman."

"That wasn't a kiss!  That was…wait a minute."  He set his cup down, coming around the table to stand beside her.  "If you were unconscious then how do you know I gave mouth-to-mouth?"

She smiled at him innocently then, turned away to work on breakfast.

THE END!!!

I hope you all enjoyed it.  If not, that's ok, too.  At least you made it through.  Since the issue of Klor never actually resolved then, maybe some day I'll get around to making a sequel, but don't hold your breath.  


End file.
